Never Alone
by Fang323
Summary: When Arthur is attacked, Alfred makes sure he isn't by himself this time.
1. Paranoia

Hey there, Fang here.

I know...let's hurt iggy some more...I'm so sorry! I just can't think of any fluffy pieces to write right now...I'm working my imagination as fast as possible, I swear! But for the moment, This is the only fic I have completely finished, so enjoy at your leisure...i guess...

B-T-Dub, this is for the 7/7 bombings...I'm extremely sorry if I don't do it justice, I'm an American...

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><p>When Arthur first stepped into the World Conference meeting room, he was slammed flat on his back. The wind was fully knocked out of him, both from the floor hitting his back and the young man crushing him in a bear hug from the front.<p>

"Hello, America, old chap…" he mumbled, once he got his breath somewhat back to normal, but was still muffed by the other country's embrace.

"Hey, Iggy!" America squeezed him a bit tighter, but did let him go. After standing up, he extended a hand to his brother, who took it, allowing Alfred to pull him up off the floor. He dusted off his suit jacket while Alfred, still laughing, adjusted Texas.

"It's good to see you too, Alfred." America grinned widely. Arthur just shook his head and murmured a few curses about the now slightly wrinkled plight of his clothing for old times sake. America knew from experience that Arthur wasn't as #!*% as he seemed to be. Especially now of late, ever since…well, that's why he wasn't getting much of a chewing out form the British gentleman. Alfred hoped his hug thoroughly expressed his thanks for the slight change in Arthur's demeanor.

"So…you been doin ok?" Alfred's meaning held more weight than his light tone suggested. Both of the countries had been the subject of terrorist attacks, sporting wounds that, as they were healing, would open up without warning.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders. "As well as I can be, I guess."

Alfred seemed to take that as an acceptable answer and slung his arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Awesome! Cause I have this insane idea that is totally going to work this time with natural disasters…"  
>Arthur tuned him out by this point, but by no means had any intention of shutting him up. Actually, he permitted to admit to himself, Alfred's ramblings were somewhat calming, a familiarity that he had grown albeit with some struggle, used to. With all the constant worry about terrorist attacks and economic issues, Arthur allowed himself to forget about that, even if just for a moment.<p>

"-But dude, I totally have to save that for the meeting! After all the countries have had their ideas rejected, of course. Cause in the books and movies, the last point made in a meeting always works, and the hero always says it! This is so gonna work!"

"Don't get your hopes up, dear chap." Arthur shrugged Alfred's arm off, as Germany and France were coming into the conference room The two nations took their respective seats in preparation for the chaotic meeting to come.

Arthur rubbed the back of his head wearily as he stood up with all the other countries. Three long hours of pointless bloody gibberish…it's a miracle in itself that his voice wasn't raw from all the yelling and cursing he'd done. Bloody #!*% , why did certain countries have to be so stupid? Then he could save time by not having to explain in uncouth words, and the meeting would have been over quicker. But, #!*% it, life had a funny way of not quite working the way he wanted it to.

He had gathered up his things, and prepared to go home (As the meeting was taking place in his own country). All of the other countries had found lodgings in hotels, so he didn't have a reason to worry about anything out of the ordinary happening. As he walked out the door, he smiled to himself as he anticipated a calm, quite evening at home, a pot of tea brewing, a newspaper in his lap… #!*% , maybe he would even actually go to bed early! He had already prepared his points for tomorrow's world meeting, and it had been a while since he had taken a day for himself…yes, Arthur was going to enjoy tonight.

"Hey, Artie!" Alfred came running up to him, rousing him from his thoughts. The American had a duffel bag in one hand, and his coat in the other.

"What is it, git…"

"Can I stay with you at your place?"

"…What? Why?"England's hopes for a night undisturbed went up in a poof of smoke before his eyes.

"Cause in all of my hero work, I totally forgot to book a room…"

Git, Arthur thought. Outside of his head, he said, "Git."

"Yes! Thanks, Arthur! I knew I could count on you!"  
>Well, may it never be said that Arthur wasn't a man of unplanned hospitality. With only half of him in regret for his now lost evening, Arthur led his younger brother to his car, waving him away from the driver's seat. Last time he let Alfred drive…well, he swore upon Earl Grey tea he wouldn't go through such a hair-raising experience ever again.<p>

Arthur's rather large house was six or seven miles outside ofLondon, so after the two of them got past the traffic of leaving the big city, it didn't take long to drive over there. Alfred's non-stop talking never seemed so loud than in that car.

Eventually, though it seemed like an eternity toEngland, they were parking in his driveway. Before Iggy had even touched the brake pedal, Alfred was already out of the car and dashing towards the front door. Arthur simply shook his head fondly and followed his former charge.

Alfred had opened up the door with the spare key Arthur had given him some years back, and now had tossed his crap onto the closest possible piece of floor he could find. Arthur signed as he closed the door behind him' Alfred never intended to go to a hotel at all.

Alfred turned around to face him, stretching his arms out wide, a contented grin on his face.

"Ah…this place hasn't changed a bit!" He smiled widely. But one look at the door behind Arthur melted that smile off.

"Arthur, could you lock the door?"

His face held apprehension…and maybe just a hint of fear. Arthur had seen it many times in the past few years, and he hated it, mostly because he understood the past behind it. He turned and clicked the lock into place, and looked at Alfred's face once again. Just as he had hoped, and expected, Alfred had calmed, and was trying to regain some of his old spirit.

"Sorry about that, man, it's just-"

"You know, you don't have to explain anything to me, dear chap."

Alfred's face took on a look of relief, and Arthur finally checked the time on his watch: 8:03. He took his brother's shoulder and steered him into his tearoom, motioning at any of the comfortable easy chairs surrounding the tea table.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back with hot drinks in a moment."

"If it's tea, I swear I'm gonna ruin your carpet with it!" Alfred called after England's retreating form. Arthur rolled his eyes.

A few minutes later, Arthur returned with tea for himself and coffee, decaf of course, for Alfred. He almost, almost, considered making him tea just for the #!*% of it, but he wasn't going to weigh those chances against his carpet's well-being.

Alfred, in the time Arthur was gone, had gone around the room, closing every curtain to every window, double checking the locks on those windows, and had finally sat down in the armchair farthest from any part of the outside. He did accept the coffee gratefully, though a few half-joking comments about American coffee being totally better earned him a piercing glare from his older brother.

Arthur sat in the opposing chair next to Alfred, right next to the window. Alfred stiffened a little, but relaxed a bit as he calculated the number of steps it would take to reach Arthur in case…well, just in case.

The two of them sat in silence, a rarity becoming not-so-rare anymore, simply sipping (Or downright gulping, in Alfred's case) their respective drinks. Uncommon as it was, Arthur decided to break the silence.

"You're still paranoid." It was a statement, not a guess. Alfred remained quiet, though he glanced up at Arthur, and then back to his cup. Arthur wanted a few more seconds for Alfred to speak, and when he got no response, the Brit continued.

"It's been almost four years, Alfred. No major attacks have occurred since. You know you can star to relax."

" #!*% no." Alfred's hand was starting to shake, and the motion began creating little ripples on the surface of the remaining coffee. He looked Arthur straight in the face.

"I can't Arthur. I can't freaking relax. It's impossible. I don't care about how much time has past, because it doesn't matter. All that matters is…" his voice dropped off.

Arthur still remained silent. He would love to say something, oh yes, he would love to promptAmericainto more words, but for once, he held his tongue. He was right to.

"I don't care that there haven't been any huge attacks since 9/11. I care about the small ones, because it means that we still have enemies. Cowardly, #!*% enemies. My people are still in danger, you know? And its hard, because I'm scared I won't be able to protect them."

Alfred placed the cup on the table.

"I'm supposed to be the hero, you know? I put on the mask in front of other countries, the persona they expect me to see. But…I feel totally different inside." Alfred lowered his head,Nantucketstaring to droop.

"Heh…story of my life…" Arthur murmured, and when Alfred looked up at him questioningly, he waved him off, and waited for him to continue.

"And then I wonder, if I can't protect my people without mistakes, then how…how can I protect my brothers?"

"Arthur's head jerked up at this.

"I mean, I'm not as worried about Matthew, because he's barely had any problems at all with any of this. Probably cause he can turn invisible." Alfred chuckled. "But… #!*% , Artie, they attack you almost as much as they do me! I didn't want you dragged into my problems!"

"Alfred, you know I can take care of myself-"

"Yeah, yeah, you tell me that all the time."

"And you know it's true."

Alfred fell back into his chair, letting out a pent-up sigh. Arthur looked hard at him.

"Look. You know it's not your job to protect me. You of all people should know I've been through worse than these attacks-"

"That doesn't make it any better."

"I didn't say it would. I just mean that-"

"And I know what you mean."

Arthur sat back in a huff.

"You know, you could bloody stop cutting me off all the time just when I get going."

Alfred just erupted into one of his old grins. "It's funner that way."

Arthur picked up his tea again, though it had gone cold. He was smiling, even though his ears were burning with Alfred's butchering of his language, as he kindly saw fit not to mention it. Alfred leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands folded together.

"Can't we just go back to me watching your back more than I need to and you pretending to be oblivious to any action of mine?" he said more to himself than Arthur. The Brit stood up to take the cold tea and coffee in to the kitchen, but stopped next to his brother, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Alfred, you're doing the best you can. People can't complain about that. So don't beat yourself up about the things you can't do, when you've already bloody done so much."

Arthur left Alfred sitting there as he went into the kitchen, Alfred was still sitting there when Arthur went to the second floor to get ready for bed. Arthur knew better than to disturb him.

At 9:00, Arthur was sitting comfortably in his bed, one last cup of tea on his bedside table and 'Sherlock Holmes' in his hands. From his room, he had heard Alfred turning on water and moving about, which was a good sign. Arthur looked thoughtfully at his back, then reaching for a book mark, he set it aside. A click, and the lights went out, and Arthur drew the blankets up around him.

After a few minutes for lying in darkness, the pressure shifted in his bed, the covers opened up and closed just as fast. Alfred scootched over, and wrapped his arms around his brother's torso, pillowing his head on his shoulder.

"Artie…I'm sorry."

"I don't know what for, but alright."

Alfred's arms grew tighter, and Arthur grinned a hidden smile in the darkness, before letting his eyes drift shut.

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

Like I said, I'll think of something fluffy...this one kind of was, well, this chapter anyway. The Angsty stuff comes later, no worries about that.

I love reviews, and if I'm doing a good job, or even a bad job, do tell me...I appreciate it more than you know. And also, I like waking up to my inbox screaming, "YOU HAVE 12 NEW MESSAGES, FANG! READ THEM NOW!"

...Ok, no, it doesn't do that, but it should...

-Fang


	2. I'm Here This Time

Hey there, Fang here.

Just back from vacation, so here is the next chapter. For all the angst lovers who didn't get much of that, you'll like this chapter much better. Enjoy!

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><p>"MORNING, IGGGGYYYYYY!" Alfred sang and yelled at the same time. Arthur cursed and groaned at the intrusion into his sleep-filled brain, before slamming the pillow onto his he3ad. Alfred responded by pulling the blinds up, letting the sunlight streak in. Arthur taught Alfred new words from his pirate days that were absolutely unrepeatable.<p>

"Rise and shiiiiine! Come on, don't be an old man about this!"

Arthur chucked the pillow at the disturbance and sat up. Alfred was already dressed, and he was laughing hysterically, clutching the pillow in his hands. Arthur gave him one the dirtiest looks he had ever concocted.

"Aw, Come on, Iggy! You don't want to be late for the meeting!"

The Brit pushed back the covers in a huff.

"And you know that if we're late, France is gonna say something about the whole 'special relationship' crap…"

Arthur stood up, stretching his back.

"And THAT is bloody why we don't let him back into NATO…" He grumbled making his way around the bed. Alfred chuckled, before moving to settle the pillow in its rightful place.

"Good one, Iggy! I'm totally gonna remember that next time I see him!"

Arthur froze.

"Even after fifty-something years, he's still a jerk about it! I mean, it should be totally Churchill's fault, considering he did that speech. But I guess-"

A hacking cough sounded from behind him, and Alfred turned around to see Arthur begin to crumble to the floor.

"Arthur!" Alfred caught his brother just before his head cracked against the wall. They were both kneeling now, Alfred supporting the Brit's shaking shoulders, and Arthur grasping the fabric above his heart, knuckles white. His eyes were open in shock, unblinking, his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out. Alfred shook him gently, his heart thudding faster.

"Arthur? A-Artie! What's –"

A gurgling cough sounded, and blood flew out of Arthur's mouth. Alfred's heart stopped.

"Arthur!"

More blood. The blue carpet below them was turning an ugly black. Alfred grabbed the nearest piece of cloth he could find and held it to Arthur's mouth. All he could say was Arthur's name as his brother continued to cough blood, dying the white shirt Alfred held scarlet. God, there was so much blood, dripping down his chin onto his pajamas, covering his face, his hair, on Alfred's hands. But Arthur's hands never left the left side of his chest, nor Alfred's arm.

His horrific hacking was interrupted by a cry from the man himself, his back arching as white-hot pain shot through his body. Alfred hurriedly laid the nation on his back, hand supporting his head, with the blood-soaked shirt at the ready. Arthur was breathing heavily, eyes wide with fear and shock and maybe just a hint of remembrance. Again, he stiffened madly, as that ice fire hit him again. He gritted his teeth, but a choked scream still found its way out to the open air. Alfred dropped the shirt and grasped for Arthur's hand, his brother's hand, slick with sweat and blood. Arthur clenched the lifeline with all he had, causing Alfred to loose feeling quickly. Alfred didn't care.

Arthur's mouth was moving again, but this time little whispers could be heard. Alfred moved closer to him, if it were possible, to catch those whispers.

"Not again…oh, please, no…not again…anything…someone…oh, God, why?...No…someone, help…"

Alfred returned the grip on Arthur's hand just as fiercely.

"Arthur! Arthur, I'm right here. Arthur, can you hear me? Arthur!"

Though Arthur's eyes were open, he was blinded with the horrendous pain. Alfred's voice cut through, though, and he shakily turned his head in Alfred's direction.

"A-Alf-"

"Yes, yes, it's me…I'm right here…" Alfred gulped.

"L-Lon…London….B-bomb…m-make it st-st-stop, A-Alfred….!"

Alfred stiffened in surprise and horror.

"Oh my God…" he choked. Arthur screamed again, no more strength left in him to hold it back. Alfred clutched him through the wave, knowing whatever support he gave wasn't noticed, but helped anyway. God, why was he so useless? He was the strongest nation in the world! Why couldn't he do anything? If he had just paid a bit more attention…he could have prevented Arthur this pain. It was his fault, his fault….

London bombings….not again…Arthur's words played havoc with Alfred's mind. London was bombed. No. No, he swore this would never happen again! Alfred swore that no other country would be the subject of such a terrorist attack. Not Arthur. Oh God, anyone but Arthur.

Alfred realized too late that Arthur's hand had ripped through his pajama shirt, and was clawing at his heart in a frenzy. Long, bloody trails traversed the already scarred skin. Alfred grabbed Arthur's other hand before he could do anymore damage to himself.

"Arthur, stop!" Alfred yelled frantically.

"No…NO…!" Arthur curled up, trying to claw away from Alfred in his blind panic. Alfred's great strength held him pinned to the floor, though. Arthur screamed in rage, fear, hurt and then he struggles faltered. He fell back, a shuddering sob racking his body.

"My people…h-how could…my people d-do this…!"

Another bout of coughing erupted inside of him. Alfred held him through it all, saying nothing but his brother's name over and over again. Inside his head, he could only think my fault, my fault. As Arthur's resolve broke, so did Alfred's heart.

It seemed like no time at all, and yet an eternity had passed when Arthur stopped coughing, stopped screaming, stopped trying to rip his own aching heart out. His head lolled to the side, and his eyes finally closed. Alfred let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding; it was over. It had stopped.

Blood covered everything, Arthur's blood covered everything. Alfred stared at his shaking, blood-covered hands.

What do I do?

What did he do?

What would Arthur have done?

He looked at his brother, unconscious for the moment. Call the world meeting, his brain finally registered. Arthur would call. Yes, Alfred would do that, but not now. Soon.

He had to help Arthur first.

Alfred moved to the man's side, lifting him up easily, hands behind his knees and back. Most of the blood had dried, but Alfred was hesitant to lay his brother on the clean bed. Removing those doubts, he settled Arthur's body onto the pillow.

Reassuring himself that Arthur would not be in trouble if he left the room, Alfred flicked his cell phone open and dialed Germany's phone. As it was ringing, he rushed to the bathroom, finding the first-aid kit, a washcloth, and a basin of water.

Someone finally picked up.

"Bonjour, mon petit L'Amerique!"

"France? What are you- Oh, screw it. Look, I need you to-"

"Aha…you wish to skip zeh meeting? I notice l'Angleterre iz not here as well! Oh ho ho ho….I see the 'special relationship' haz taken a new meaning?"

"NO! Look, and this is why we wont let you back into NATO-" Alfred stopped himself. Arthur's joke, he remembered. I need to talk about Arthur.

"Oh, so if zat iz not zeh reason, zhen-"

"Arthur's just been bombed, France."  
>Dead silence came from the other end.<p>

"Tell Germany and the others that they'll have to do the meeting without us."

"…I understand, l'Amerique."

Alfred clicked the phone shut and slammed it into his pocket. He made his way back to Arthur's room. To his relief, nothing had changed, including Arthur's condition.

Alfred pulled up one of the chairs from Arthur's window to the bedside, and then went over to his wardrobe to find new pajamas. He carefully changed Arthur's pants, and removed the shirt completely. Arthur's torso was completely covered in blood splatters, and Alfred set to work cleaning each one off. As he went and removed the blood, it was shocking to him at how scarred Arthur's body was. They were white lines and sometimes hard to see, but Alfred cleaned them as if they might suddenly open up again. Arthur had been through #!*% , he thought. Absolute #!*% .

When he reached the left side of his chest, he washed along the new gashes in the skin caused by Arthur himself. Scars of the same sort covered the skin there as well, remnants of the first seventy-six days in WWII. Alfred shivered, seeing Arthur then was one image he would never rid himself of.

Using the first aid kit, he bandaged Arthur's chest the best he could. Within a matter of minutes, Arthur's face showed no sign of the attack that had just happened. Alfred drew the blankets over the still body, and then changed his own blood-soaked shirt. After cleaning out the basin of water, he sat down in the chair he had placed next to Arthur's bedside to keep watch.

Arthur looked peaceful for once, and Alfred's shoulders lost some of their tension. All there was to do was wait. Normally, Alfred hated even that thought. Right now, though, it was the only thing he wanted to do.

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><p>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<p>

First of all, hey, cookies11! I'm not a USUK fan myself, but i'm glad you like the brotherly aspect as well. These two are so cute...Please continue to read!

And hi, again, Faith Altoire. I can completely agree with that obsession...It's most of my fiction on this site...And it's so easy to do it to Arthur as well...But thank you for your reviews, I appreciate them!

...I must say, i've become obsessed with HetaOni, and to all who know what I'm talking about, the completely beautiful and angsty scenes between America and England make me cry and obsess over these two brothers even more...I wrote a fic on the series, but I don't know if I'll publish it...

ANYWAY! If my fiction seems to become more...dark...it's because of that. So Sorry. For all who haven't seen HetaOni, I highly recommend it...go on YouTube.

Well, that's all for now...Please review, i love it... you all should go read something happy...

-Fang


	3. I'll Be Alright Eventually

Hey there, Fang here. I would have posted this yesterday...but...I'm absolutely lazy...So sorry...

Anyway, this chapter is shorter than the others, but there really wasn't much to write except the resolution...Enjoy anyway!

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><p>It was four long hours before Arthur finally stirred. His eyes flickered open slowly, and Alfred, who was listening to his iPod, literally tore his earphones from his ears.<p>

"Arthur?"

His brother's eyes turned towards him, foggy from his ordeal, but slowly focusing on Alfred's face. His lips formed a single word, too soft and raspy for Alfred to hear. Alfred leaned closer.

"What, Arthur?"

"Tea."

Alfred sat back, incredulous, and then burst out laughing. It was going to be okay, he knew now. Arthur was going to be okay. It was over.

Arthur coughed impatiently, hurting his torn throat more than he realized. His grimace brought America's laughter to a halt, but the smile stayed as he helped Arthur to a half-sitting position. The movement made Arthur gasp in pain, but the worn muscles in his arms and hands held on to Alfred as his brother tried to be as gentle as possible.

"Sorry, bro…" Alfred apologized sincerely.

Arthur shook his head, breath coming out in short, little pants from the exertion. Alfred held in one hand a glass of water, and he wrapped his other behind Arthur's head. He lifted him up as much as he dared so he could drink.

"I know it's not tea, but we'll start with water, kay?"

Arthur twisted away from the glass after a few sips, each one painfully making its way down his throat.

Alfred grabbed a few more pillows from the other side of the bed, making sure to cushion Arthur's head and chest sufficiently. Arthur's eyes closed again, exhausted from everything he had gone through.

"Arthur?" Alfred laid a hand on his brother's thin arm. Arthur cracked his eyes open again.

"Alfred." He rasped. Alfred had never been happier to hear his name.

"Dude…" Alfred's hair hid his eyes. He really needed to comb it, Arthur thought absently.

"You scared me shitless back there."

Arthur simply looked at him.

"I mean, after all you said about not having to worry about you, and then…that…comes and #!*% happens…"

"It – wasn't your fault." Arthur interjected, wincing at his gravelly voice.

"I coulda prevented it! You wouldn't have had to go through that! It was insane that I coulda let that happen!"

Arthur's hand reached out to grasp Alfred's arm. Alfred stared at his brother's now jagged and broken nails, from where Arthur had dug into his own flesh…no. No, not yet.

"Alfred." He had to lean in to hear Arthur. "They were my people." Arthur flinched at his own words. "There- was no way you could've bloody predicted it."

Alfred stared at his brother. Arthur swallowed painfully.

"It wasn't your fault."

He lay back against the million pillows, spent. That many words had taken all energy out of him.

Alfred felt the weight on his chest suddenly lift. It wasn't his fault. Arthur didn't blame him. It wasn't his fault. He scrubbed at the wetness in his eyes, and looked at his paler than normal brother. The covers had been fumbled around, and Alfred pulled them over his brother again for the hundredth time after settling him into a lying position.

"I, um…I called my boss, and he said I didn't have to go home for two months. So…"

"Git…I'll- be okay in less time than that…" Arthur's voice was growing even softer as exhaustion started dragging him into sleep again.

"Yeah, But I won't be." Alfred smiled sadly.

Arthur dropped off to dreams peacefully, but Alfred continued to watch him. Arthur had protected him plenty of times before. Alfred was returning the favor.

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><p>AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:<p>

First things first, what's up, HeartlessRain? Yes, these are the London Riots...I noticed there was only one or two fics on the subject (For no real reason...maybe people just don't like doing recent history) and decided to put one up! I have kept going, and it is done! WOoHoo!

Hey Death-Sama01, well, I updated fast! Hope the ending met with your expectations, I'm glad you liked it.

And to Faith-Altoire, a most faithful reader, you are just freaking awesome and amazing. I'll try to keep my writing level and story interest up to par! Thanks!

AND back to the story...

...poor Arthur...but he has a faithful brother to look after him! He's gonna be just fine!

Actually...Me and my friend were talking...and if you think about it, Arthur has had a rough go of it his whole life...bad childhood experiences(Hey! His brothers shot arrows at him! Uncalled for!), numerous attacks on London (Fire of 1666...WWII...05...it's not pretty), I'm pretty #!*% sure he didn't have a friend in the world until Alfred and Matthew...

...And people wonder why it's so easy to hurt this guy...

...he needs a hug. Multiple times.

So hug your Iggy today.

Haha, anyway, I love reviews, blah blah blah, some witty comment about reviews, laughter, the usual.

Hope you enjoyed this (again) angsty fic!

-Fang


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